Leannáin na Naomh: Lover of Saints
by Blue Eyes At Night
Summary: Sometimes its hard to love a saint, the story of 3 different women with the same problem... there's DaMa, ConnorOC, MurphyOC, and all the delightful cursing, abuse and vulgarity you can expect. Try it on for size. RR
1. Lover of Saints

A/N- I have gotten myself into a slight Boondock Saints obsession… and will either do a bunch of one-shots or actually make a semi-lucid fanfic… we shall see… wherever this goes, I hope you like it. Note: I don't speak gaelic even though I'd love to, so the translations may not be accurate… just let me know and I'll change them

Leannáin na Naomh

_Lover of Saints_

By Blue Eyes At Night

Lover of Saints

They were the Saints. Those who claimed the wicked, who smote the evil of the world. They were infamous and famous…they were a thousand things. They were brothers, fathers, lovers, sons and friends to a thousand different people. But they had the most connections to one woman in particular. Perhaps the McManus' were not the most stable of people, but they were honest and true…and loyal to a fault.

Annabelle had learned that a long time ago, when she fell in love for the first and last time. Falling for a McManus was like falling off a cliff, it was a glorious free-fall…until you hit the bottom. And oh, was there a bottom. She had loved him fiercely, wholely, and deeply…and he had loved her just the same.

But she always knew, somewhere deep inside, that he was a restless soul. No matter how much he loved her, he would have to leave one day. It was his nature, his being…his calling even. And she understood callings…well, she understood him at any rate.

They were married young, almost too young. But they were young and in love…and for a few years they enjoyed it. Enjoyed him working dead-end jobs despite his brilliance, they enjoyed going to Sibeal's pub and getting drunk, and having sloppy drunk sex afterwards. They enjoyed pretending not to hear the slow tick of an imaginary clock that would one day send him far away. Perhaps for good.

When her belly started growing they were the most ecstatic people. No one glowed quite like she did, or smiled as widely as he did. No one could match them for enthusiasm. Annabelle's didn't even falter when the doctor told her she was carrying twins. Nor did it fault when she tripled in size, could barely walk, and relied on her husband for damn near everything.

Maybe she faltered in labor…but who could blame her? Her boys were born exactly as they lived: wildly. It was a long painful endeavor…one she probably wouldn't have made it through without being able to squeeze his hand and verbally abuse him.

When the boys came, they came within minutes of each other. One long and fair, one squat and dark…both perfect. He held one in the crook of each arm, inspecting them, checking them, and when he finally approved, he passed them to their mother.

"Here ye go, Ma…here's the little bastards that've been kickin ye all this time." It was the first time he called her Ma, but it stuck more perfectly then her name. He would call her that whenever they spoke for the next thirty years, until he finally returned to her and called her Annabelle again.

Ma didn't speak as she watched them, tears welling in her eyes. They'd given her hell for 9 months, and she assumed they'd continue doing that for as long as they lived…but for now they were perfect little angels.

Nodding to the blonde she whispered, "Connor…this one will be Connor."

Da smoothed the dark haired babe's head, "So, this is Murphy then?"

"Aye…what do ye think of the newest McManus boys?"

He smiled and kissed her, then laid a kiss on the brow of each boy, "I think they'll have to work their asses off to cause as much trouble as me and me brother."

Ma looked down at her boys as they wriggled and tried to nurse, and as they finally began to suck she looked at her husband, "Somehow I think they'll manage that just fine."

Smiling the deep, proud smile of a new father, Da settled back and watched his newborns nurse until they fell fast asleep. They were such tiny things then, but he loved them with such a powerful force already. He loved them fiercely through weening, through teething, through potty training, through walking…through the mischief they were quick to cause even as toddlers.

He loved his boys as fiercely and powerfully and wildly as he had ever loved their mother…and missed all three with the same deep, resounding ache when he left just after the boys' third birthday.

Never did he expect to get caught, to be put away. He wanted to be "Da" again, not "Il Duce". But he didn't get a choice, not for twenty five years. When he realized the two boys bloodied and beaten in the basement were his boys, he was mystified. Then he wondered how he didn't know all along.

There on Connor's face was his mother's cheek, her eyes…and on Murphy! Murphy was the image of his father. How did he miss such obvious clues?

As he stood and cupped their faces, staring into eyes which could not remember that he was the first human they ever saw, he found some particle of peace. He was Da again.

That night he called Annabelle, teasing her about losing the boys in a nasty part of Boston. He filled a hole in her heart that night. The hole of being so removed from the man she loved for so long. But he made a new set of holes, telling her about his vendetta and how the boys had joined him. Holes that wouldn't leave her until she could safely hold her men in her arms again. Holes that were made when she realized she was merely a mortal who loved the Saints.

A/N- well, this is Ma's chapter and hopefully a good way to start off. Look forward to Connor and Murphy having girls that need tragedy. Not going to lie, I tend to favor Connor but there's a wonderful Boondock Saints fic with the main OC and Murphy and I love it.

Revised already: found out Ma's real name ;-) thank you IMDB.

R/R!


	2. Hope

A/N- I can never say no…at least a series of one-shots isn't exactly a fic. So hopefully we won't get too far without being able to update. I dunno…hope everyone's enjoying the ride thus far!

Leannáin na Naomh

_Lover of Saints_

Hope

Cathleen Grady was always the black sheep of her family. She swore, she drank, she smoked…and that was just at church. Her ma claimed with the way she dressed, the way she spoke, and the way she couldn't say no to a tattooist, that she was on the fast track to hell without a way to brake. Cat just shook her head and tried to say it wasn't how she looked, or what she said, but what she believed that would put her in or out of hell… but she said it with just enough profanities to get her booted from her home. There wasn't much fun left for her in a small town in rural Ireland these days. The little fun that had existed had long since moved on…and she missed them.

The McManus family was the only one in town that she liked enough to put up with. They were a lot like her, the smoke, they drank, they cursed…and they were good Catholics while they were at it. Despite what the townspeople said about their behavior, or the way they let their two wild boys run around, no one could honestly say they weren't good people. Better people then most of the town, even.

When Daddy McManus left, the whispers of adultery started. They continued for a good while until one day, in the middle of a church picnic, Ma McManus stood up and shouted, "Alright, now that ye've all had a good, scandalous whisper and at me expense, and me boys' expense, shut your fuckin' traps before I shut them for ye. Say that my husband's a pig and a slob, I'll give ye that…but call him an adulterer again and ye'll be dealing with me when I'm not feelin' so fuckin' forgivin'."

The words themselves weren't so bad, but when she was balancing a cigarette in the corner of her mouth, taking a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, and sharpening a knife that was intended for the lamb in front of her, she was a bit more frightening to behold.

Cat had respected her all that time. Though she didn't remember most of it, she was only five at the time and the boys were hardly four, but it was a moment still spoken of in the town as much as twenty five years later. Annabelle McManus had always taken a fancy to Cat as well. When she caught her smoking behind the butcher's when she was thirteen, she had simply said, "If yer goin' ta smoke, don't hide it. It makes ye seem embarrassed about it. If ye like it, just do it."

Connor and Murphy were another issue entirely. They were the most rambunctious, wild boys in town, even though they were younger and scrawnier then most. They had no fear, perhaps that was the advantage. They also worked as one seemless being. Cat was fascinated with them from the start. Fascinated that two boys who seemed to share one soul, one brain, and one bar fight after another were still so different.

Murphy was shorter, broader and darker then Connor. He was also the first to action, the wise-ass, and the all-around firecracker. He could explode with the flick of a match. Connor was long, lean, and fair, and he was a slow-burning fuse. He could explode just as powerfully as his brother, but he was more of a smooth operator. He could talk you into anything. Being calm wasn't exactly a taming feature, Connor would calmly throw a Molotov cocktail into your car while you were in it if you had the indecency to nearly kill someone and flip them off for it. Because Connor was the brains, because he was the soothing poison, he always seemed to have more enemies then his brother.

But the boys shared friends and enemies like the shared clothes and food.

Cat had known of them all her life, and well enough to know their names since birth, but she hadn't really bonded with them until she was seventeen. She had gotten her first tattoo, a Celtic cross on the back of her neck, and she had been kicked out of her house for the first time, but not the last. After that fight with her ma, she went down to Sibeal's pub and tried to sneak a drink. Sibeal caught her and chastised her. When he returned his attention to his other customers the twins walked casually past her, and snuck the very bottle she had reached for and walked past her whispering "Back room.". There she sat with the sixteen year old twins and they shared a half-empty bottle of Bailey's.

It was her first drink as well, but if she was going to be the evil girl with a tattoo she might as well have been the evil drunk girl. Later that night she was puking outside Sibeal's and was having a hard time keeping her long hair out of her way when someone came up behind her and held it. She probably should've panicked but she was too busy being sick. When she finally finished and collapsed to her knees beside the trash can, she heard a long whistle, "Fancy ink-job on the back of yer neck."

She turned to see Connor, "Thanks."

But the words came out as a pained moan. He handed her a cloth to wipe her mouth and asked if she wanted anything.

"Death, please. Death would be nice."

He laughed lightly under his breath, "If ye think this is fun, ye'll love tomorra."

"And why aren't you puking in a dumpster?"

Flashing a cocky grin he replied, "McManus' can hold their liquor."

Cat wanted to reply but slumped forward in exhaustion. Before she hit the ground, Connor caught her and helped her up, supporting her as he walked her to a back room at Sibeal's and laid her down on something relatively soft.

"Yer on the barley Sibeal keeps to make his own brews, so try not to be sick on it. I'll git ye a blanket and we'll see what we can do fer pillows."

When she woke in a nest of blankets the next morning with her head pounding and her mouth dry, she saw no sign of him. When she realized the time she cursed aloud and ran to the church with all the dexterity she could muster. She was only a little late, but in that town everyone always came early, and she was noticed. Her family sat in the front and wouldn't allow her a seat. A scene was almost made when Connor McManus tugged at her sleeve and lead her to the back row with his family. She had mass with them, and Murphy even slipped her a breath mint to get rid of Bailey's Morning Breath. Annabelle gave her lunch and told her she had best get her skinny ass home before one of the twins took to her.

Over the next year Cat saw plenty of the McManus boys. They'd change their route home from school to walk with her. They taught her how to steal from vending machines. She went with them when they got matching crosses on their forearms, and they came with her to get a Celtic Knot on her lower back. She bought them dirty magazines and she once convinced them to buy her tampons. She had never had so much fun, or gotten in so much trouble, then when she was with the McManus'.

When her ma kicked her out, they'd push their little twin beds together and one boy would curl up against each of her sides. They'd also gotten into more then one fight when some other lad at school called her foul names…and she'd gotten suspended for knocking out the teeth of a girl who was spreading lies about things they'd done to each other.

One night when she was taking refuge with them, Murphy on her right, Connor on her left, she couldn't sleep. She tried shifting position and wound up with her back to Murphy. As she was settling in, she nearly jumped out of the bed when Connor slung an arm around her waist.

"Christ, woman, don't wake the whole house." But she hadn't even succeeded in waking Murphy, who mumbled in his sleep and shifted onto his side.

"Sorry, Connor, ye scared me." When she looked at him their eyes caught. She couldn't explain it another way except that one second felt like an hour of just staring at him as he stared at her. She blushed a bit, but he didn't.

"Why are ye blushing?"

Before she could answer he leaned forward and kissed her. It was short, it was sweet…and she didn't know how to respond except in shock.

"Connor…?"

Her lack of response must have made him worry because he pulled away a bit, "I'm sorry if I offended ye…but ye can't look so pretty at me and then be surprised if I kiss ye."

She smiled, "I wasn't offended…"

"Some people are trying to fucking sleep." Murphy growled and Connor glowered at him, tempted to hit him but not wanting Cat in the middle of a twin-tussle.

Cat looked at Connor and he shook his head, "Later."

She snuck into her house the next morning when her ma was at work and was changing her clothes when her bedroom door squeaked.

"Fuck! I didn't know ye were getting dressed." Connor's voice came as she wrapped a flannel button up around her otherwise naked torso.

She laughed as he turned his back, "Fuck, Connor, if ye apologized for all the naughty things ye did, ye'd never have anything else to say."

He snorted at her and she slipped on a bra and a tee-shirt before pulling the flannel over her again, "Alright, ye can turn around."

When he walked into her room he walked in alone.

"Where's Murph?" She asked, craning her neck to see if Connor was blocking him.

"He's getting us some smokes at the store, then heading to Sibeal's. I'm meeting him there." He looked at his boots for a moment before catching her eyes, "Cat, I'm not sorry I kissed ye…I'm just sorry ye didn't kiss me back."

"Well ye picked one hell of a fucking time to do it, Con! Did ye expect me to jump yer bones with yer brother sleeping less then a fucking foot from me? Besides ye never said anything to warn me…"

"Warn ye?" Connor ran a hand through his hair, "Woman, I've had a crush on ye since I saw Sibeal scolding ye fer trying to nab his liquor! I convinced Murph to lift it with me…I watched ye all night when ye was sick from it. I brought ye to sit with us at church, and back to me mother's house…I follow ye around like a puppy and ye say I didn't give ye any warning?"

"You did all those things with your brother! How was I supposed to know ye weren't just being friendly?"

With every yell they took another angry step towards each other.

"And kicking in Jimmie Connely's balls was a friendly gesture?"

"Murphy beat up Peter Flannery!"

"Peter didn't tell everyone he fucked you!"

"He called me a slag though!"

"That's why he got off with just Murphy!"

By now they were inches from each other and Connor, conscious of it, pulled away and took a breath. He was calmer when he spoke, "Cat…me brother and me are like the same person. We go everywhere together. And I was scared to go after ye alone so I asked Murph to stay with me. I was afraid ye would shoot me down.

"But Murph being there doesn't make me caring about ye any less true."

Cat nodded, "I know that ye dumb fuck, but why didn't ye just do something about it?"

"Like this?" And calm as can be he pulled her towards him and kissed her, but differently then before. He was stronger this time, more urgent. His arms wrapped around her and held her against him even as they traveled from her cheek to her neck to her back…and even mischievously to her ass.

This time she didn't hesitate to kiss him back.

Murph waited a long time for Connor at Uncle Sibeal's, then figured it was a bad idea to let him go off with Cat on his own. What if she shot him down? The poor bastard was probably out somewhere destroying public property and if Ma got that call from the Sheriff again both boys would get ripped a new one.

Finally he decided to go back to Cat's place and see if she could tell him anything about what happened. He liked Cat, thought she was a blast, but she wasn't his type of girl. Something about her looked trashy, even if she had a heart of gold…Murphy was more into an innocent looking girl. But Connor had fallen for Cat's bad exterior like a ton of fucking bricks…and Murph was going to be pissed if it came back to bite him in the ass.

When he got to her house there were no cars, but as he approached her heard people inside…could they really still be talking about it?

Murphy tip-toed through the house and followed the sounds to Cat's room. The crack the door was open was enough for him to see Connor, shirtless, on top of Cat, trailing kisses down her neck. He couldn't tell what she was wearing but he couldn't stop himself from wolf-whistling at them.

"That's the fucking way Connor! Show her why no man is ever enough after a fucking McManus!"

They both leapt a foot in the air and Connor boxed Murph about the ears all the way to Sibeal's house, blushing as red as a tomato.

They'd been dating only a couple months when Connor sat her down and told her that he and Murphy were going to America in a few weeks. They had always planned to, to look for their father, to explore, to break free…but Sibeal had bought them the tickets as a present and there was no changing them.

He made it clear that he wanted her to come, but that the brothers were barely going to have enough money to support themselves.

"It tears me up…I don't know what to do."

The pain of missing him hadn't quite set in, "I do."

And she kissed him, kissed him with everything she had. She held him fast to her and didn't let him pause. She pulled him slowly down on top of her and lay there, immersed in their kiss, for long minutes. Finally they broke apart.

"What are ye doing, Cat? Do ye think neckin' is going to change anything?"

"No…but I don't want to lose ye. And I want to use every moment I got left with ye."

And they did, they were closer then two peas in a pod, hardly ever leaving each other's sides for the next few weeks. But the time came when he had to go. There was no going around it, no denying it. His one bag was packed and sat by the door ominously. For once, Murphy wasn't there. He was out partying, drinking, and saying good-bye. Connor had a very different good-bye to make.

For all their misbehavior, this was one way they had never misbehaved. It was something closer, deeper…almost more sacred. But doesn't everyone feel that way their first time? It was all a first time usually is, a bit painful, a bit awkward…but something they'd never forget.

When he had to leave the next morning, maybe it made it harder…but it was a sweet good-bye. It was something solid that bound them for the rest of their lives, each a title of importance to the other.

Cat never expected she'd see Connor McManus again. A whole ocean away and God only knew how many states those boys would wander through! But there was always a soft spot in her heart for him. Maybe that's just the way of things.

But when her mother kicked her out for the last time and she knew she'd be leaving Ireland for bigger (if not better) things, she did make one last stop before the bus station.

Ma McManus gave her a look up and down. She wore ratty pants, and tight shirts, she had visible tattoos and smoked like a chimney, there was a flask in one pocket and a switch blade in the other…but Ma liked her all the same. She even petted her should a minute and asked where she'd go. Cat had no idea, whatever the first flight out that she could afford was.

"Maybe ye should try New York City…it's a wonderful city I hear." And winked, then shuffled her out the door saying if she was going to go, she best get going.

On her flight to the City, to a foreign country with a couple hundred dollars in her pocket and a half-empty pack of cigarettes slowly being decimated, she hoped for one moment that she'd see the McManus boys.

But hope is a fleeting thing, and she wouldn't let it weigh her down…

But for one moment…she did hope.

A/N- alright…I wont call this a fic, but in this series of one-shots that have some relationship to one another, this is the introduction to Connor/OC….don't worry, Murphy will get his day soon… and I'll probably even give the boys a chance to have their own narration at some point.

My updating can be erratic. I'm a freshman in college right now and I work best between 11 m and 2 am, so when I don't have other work or an early class you can expect semi-regular updates…but sometimes I disappear for a while.

R/R!


	3. Guardian Angel

A/N- well…I hope I don't lose steam too quick.

3 readers! Not too shabby for such a quiet section, but I'm hoping to convert more. Tell ur friends about this wonder semi-fic :o) Thanks to you girls though; Lady Anck-su-namun (good to see ya again!), Reid's girl and GoddessLaughs. Glad u like it and I hope the rest suits u just as well.

Leannáin na Naomh

_Lover of Saints_

Guardian Angel

Laura Bennett was a girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She came from a wealthy family and was given every advantage. She was the daughter of a very well respected criminal lawyer and a park avenue princess, but she wasn't snobby. She was painfully shy. She was also slightly built and skinny and the perfect target.

But she knew about being a target. She was a target at school, where her money made some ridicule her while the others chose her mousiness to laugh at. She was a target at work where people didn't respect her because they thought she bought her way to the best position in her editing company.

A normal, honest life without fuss was high on her priorities and it was hard to get when mommy and daddy would send her $2,000 presents for no reason. Laura didn't think these held evil intentions, but her parents always thought she was snubbing advantages that many would kill for. It seemed that Laura could never please anyone.

She moved from Park Avenue to a more working class neighborhood. She kept all her fancy presents locked away and she lived off of her own wages. All she wanted was to live normally and not cause any trouble. Her parents had never given her a religion, but she took up Catholicism. Something about the archaic serenity of its laws and its churches comforted her. She would go to church in the morning, before work.

Not many people went into church that early, and she liked the comfort of being alone. She never was very good with people and found she did her best communication when it was to a priest she couldn't see, or a statue that couldn't respond. This existence may seem boring to many, but it suited Laura. It allowed her to be normal, or what she thought of as normal anyway.

One day two men came to church, they were there even before she was. They both looked up as she came in, alarmed that they weren't alone. She held up a shy hand to wave and took a seat far away from them, kneeling to pray. After long minutes they stood, crossed themselves, and made their way out. They walked by her, and she looked up curious to see these early birds. They were tall men, dressed in black shirts with black jackets and jeans; one blonde, the other with black hair. Both had tattoos she could see, on their necks and hands, and long wooden rosaries.

And that's all the attention she paid them.

That day at least.

They became a part of her daily routine, always in the church about the same time as she was. One day they even bumped into each other as they walked in and the dark haired one held the door open for her, "Ladies first."

His words held a thick Irish accent and she smiled at him and his friend and went inside. It was starting to get colder outside and she shivered lightly, keeping her coat on as she went to pray. The two men weren't sitting so far away anymore; they'd take a pew closer to her if they walked in after she did. There was a kind of unspoken friendship developing between the three people in New York who thought that 6 am church was a fantastic idea. When they left, a little while before she did, they both nodded to her, the dark haired one whispering good-bye which resulted in a playful elbow from the other.

The first snow came shortly there after, without much warning, and she trudged her way to church after stopping for a hot coffee at a local deli. For some reason, maybe some small social part of her springing to life, she ordered two more coffees. The boys were already there, kneeling, when she entered. Feeling as though she may be intruding, but having a smidgen of courage, she walked up to their pew, laid the two coffees by them and made to leave but one said, "Well, ye can't just buy us coffee and not join us."

They slid over and made room for her, and she sat and went about her prayers. When she looked up from them the two men were drinking their coffee and watching her, whispering in a language she didn't understand. They silenced as she caught their eyes and the blonde held out his hand, "We think this relationship has reached the point where names might be a nice addition. I'm Connor."

"And I'm Murphy." The black haired one shook her hand in turn.

"Laura." She squeaked out, blushing and smiling.

Murphy smiled at her, Connor whispered something that earned him a smack.

She took a deep breath and tried to be friendly, "Are you two brothers?"

"Aye, twins." Murphy nodded.

"Irish Catholic, too?" She knew it sounded stupid but she wasn't good at this type of thing.

"Very observant." Connor smirked, "Since that explains our reasons for church-going so early, may we ask what yer doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"I'm comforted by church. And I don't get out much so this is sort of my big thing during the day."

"Is that right? A pretty thing like ye doesn't get out much?" Murphy studied her, "What does yer husband think of that?"

She blushed a furious shade of red, "I'm not married."

"Boyfriend?"

Before she responded Connor elbowed him, "Yer fucking embarrassing the poor soul, Murph. Let it go."

Winking playfully at her, Murphy replied, "I don't mean no harm, but I've always been a curious bastard."

She smiled at them but realizing she would be late for work if she stayed too long, she politely took her leave. Despite their vulgarity and the feeling that they were probably talking about her in another language, she liked them. No matter their language or their tattoos, how bad could they be if they went to church as much as she did?

They had a closer kind of relationship now, they shared a pew and sometimes somebody would bring doughnuts, coffee, bagels. It became a kind of Catholic 6am club. They didn't talk much, but they did a bit of gossiping as they ate, or walked out, and it became a part of her routine. Something about knowing them made her a bit braver. She actually let out a couple curses around them, and wore less drab clothing. It wasn't as though she was running around in halter tops and mini skirts, but she was letting her barriers down a bit. The boys were easy to get along with.

One day she got there and only found one of them. Murphy sat alone, hunched over in prayer. He looked as though he hadn't gotten sleep all night and was muttering his prayers frantically, in different languages.

"Murphy?" She squeaked, afraid she was interrupting something.

He jumped about a foot in the air, "Christ, Laura, it's only ye. Ye nearly gave me a heart attack."

Then she saw a streak of blood on his cheek, small and dried but she gasped and took out a Kleenex to wipe it away, "Are you hurt?"

"Me? No…oh that's not mine."

The words made her uneasy, what made her more uneasy was that he looked ashamed that he'd said them the moment they were out, "Is Connor alright?"

Murphy paused, then shook his head, "He'll be fine. We… we had a bit of a scuffle last night and he got hurt. Nothing that won't fix itself in a few days."

Laura could tell he dodged the issue and was being vague on purpose. Out of respect she let it go, she wouldn't push him to talk. But she did say her prayers aloud…and she made a point to include Connor in them.

She felt Murphy watching her as she spoke about his twin, and she added, "And help Murphy through this because I think he's having a hard time. Amen"

Quick as a flash of lightening she felt a kiss pressed firmly against her cheek and it startled her so much she nearly fell over, causing Murphy to laugh aloud and help her back to her seat.

"Jumpy, aren't ye? I just gave ye a little peck and ye nearly jumped out of yer skin!" It was good to see him smile, even if his eyes were still heavy.

Laura blushed furiously and gave a shy smile, "You surprised me."

"Ye act like no one's ever kissed ye before."

"No I've been…that is I, it's not as though…" she stumbled and stuttered and it only added to Murphy's amusement.

"Don't hurt yerself trying to get all those words out at once, little bit! I didn't mean nothing by it. I'm sure the boys line up to kiss ye."

She rolled her eyes and actually snorted, she didn't know she could snort.

"Is that right, now?" Murphy read her reaction and something flickered behind his eyes, "Interesting…"

She desperately wanted to know what was interesting but she was already running late for work.

"Oh shit!" She blushed when she cursed, "I have to go…I hope Connor gets better soon!"

"Thank ye…"

Outside it was the semi-chill of a winter ending, perhaps prematurely, but at least winding down. She was wearing the battle worn peacoat she'd bought two years ago and was wishing she'd thought of a hat this morning…

Suddenly she was shoved violently from behind and flew face-first into a brick wall. Yelling in pain and clutching her forehead she didn't even see the man who attacked her, but she felt him pin her to the wall with strong arms, felt his putrid, hot breath on her face, and felt the tip of the gun as he cried, "Give me your money!"

She was crying from pain and fear, and trembling with both. She was trying to open her bag but was distracted as he kept yelling at her, pointing his gun at her, shouting, calling her 'bitch' and even shoving her violently against the wall. She finally found her wallet and held it out meekly. He reached to take it but a muffled thud sounded through the alley and he slumped forward, blood everywhere.

He'd been shot. One clean shot, in one temple, out the other. Footsteps angrily approached and a figure in black stood over the man, making sure he was dead. Laura didn't look up, she buried her face in her knees and sobbed, letting her fear overtake her.

The body moved and she heard someone shuffling through pockets, and then a gentle lilting voice began praying, "And shepards we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee…"

Laura jerked her head up when she heard the voice, and made a muffled cry as she saw Murphy placing two coins on the dead man's eyes. He met her eyes and without stopping his prayer, raised a finger to her lips indicating quiet, "And we shall flow a river forth to Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomini Patri, et filii, et spiritus sancti."

That's when he turned his gaze fully to her, "Are ye alright, Laura?"

She was paralyzed, "Your…your…"

"I'm here to help ye, now, can ye stand?" He handed her the wallet that had fallen to the ground. For a moment she tried to stand, but was dizzy and her knees gave out. Her vision was beginning to blur.

"Laura," Murphy cooed, "Laura! Try to stay awake now…tell me where you live."

She must've gotten the words to her address out because after that, she didn't remember anything until she woke up in her apartment. On her forehead was a clean bandage and on her bedside table was a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. Groaning as the pain hit her, she tried to roll over but her arm hit something. Someone. She shrieked when she saw Murphy snoozing beside her in bed.

Irrationally she looked down and was immensely relieved to find she was fully clothed, and so was he…well considering the morning she'd had perhaps not so irrational. Her scream had woken Murphy and he was alert in seconds, "How are ye?

"Confused."

"I'll bet... how's yer head?"

"It hurts."

He reached past her and got her the water and aspirin, watched her take both, and then relieved her of them. Taking the bottle back to the medicine cabinet he found them in, he returned to her room and prepared for the questions he was about to get.

"Who are you?" She asked.

Trying not to burst into a monologue of righteousness, Murphy slowly exhaled, "I'm a man who helped ye when a low-life street thug would've beaten ye up, maybe even kill ye, for whatever was in yer wallet."

"You shot him."

"Aye."

"That prayer…your one of them, aren't you?" Her voice was a fearful whisper.

"Aye…I'm a Saint. As is Connor."

Laura sobered for a minute, "Is that how he got hurt?"

Murphy had almost forgotten that Connor was at home nursing injuries of his own, "Aye, he's got a little gunshot wound on his right leg…and he took a firm hit to the face. It could've been worse but I don't like seeing him like that."

"You…you…" Even her words were trembling, "you _killed_ men last night?"

Nodding gravely he answered, "Aye. Mobsters, about six of them."

Her eyes filled with tears, her friends, her good church boys, were killers.

"_Why_?"

"Why? Why!" Murphy tried to contain himself, but it was a sensitive subject, "Because there are men out there that would murder innocent people, steal from innocent people…because there are men in the world that haven't the slightest hint of goodness in them, and they're willing to fuck over good, honest people for their own fuckin' pleasure. Someone has to stop them."

Laura couldn't respond, there wasn't anything she could think to say… she stared off into the distance and tried to understand what she was being told, even though her throbbing head was making it difficult.

Finally Murphy took a seat beside her and part of him felt terribly guilty when she shied away from him, "Listen, dove…yer the most innocent fuckin person I've ever met. Ye don't have a shred of evil in the whole of yer body. Can ye tell me why some man with a gun had the right to beat ye up and steal yer fuckin money?"

"He didn't." A surge of courage overtook her, "But why does another man with a gun have a right to kill him?"

"Because the fucking system won't do it! Because the fucking law won't do it! Because it's too easy for fucker like that to avoid persecution and harm good people! That's why."

He cupped her chin and made her look at his eyes, "I'm not a bad person, dove. I kill bad people."

She nodded solemnly, "I understand that. And thank you. Thank you for helping me."

He dropped her chin, "Yer welcome."

They sat in silence for a long minute before she reached for the phone. He looked at her questioningly, afraid perhaps she was too much of a good person and was going to call the cops, but his fears were laid to rest when she spoke, "Hello Debbie, its Laura…. I know its after 9. I was mugged this morning and…yes I'm fine….no he didn't get anything…my guardian angel chased him away…I know I'm lucky…but could you put in that I'm taking a sick day? Thanks….Yes I'll be in tomorrow. Thanks…uh-huh…good-bye."

When she put the phone down she mumbled, "I wasn't going to call the cops."

"So I see." Murphy fidgeted restlessly before blurting out, "What do ye think of me?"

It caught Laura by surprise and she chewed on it for a long time…too long maybe the pause seemed to be killing poor Murphy, but she finally spoke very carefully, "It scares me that you kill people, but…I don't think you'd hurt someone who didn't deserve to be hurt."

"So…ye don't think I'm some monster?"

"No…no I don't."

Nodding to himself he got up and squatted down in front of her so she'd have a hard time looking away, "I know this is poorly fuckin timed…but I don't know if I can wait much longer…" taking another breath he continued, "Yer a sweet girl, a really sweet, pretty girl, and I fancy ye. Especially with things as they are, I don't know what to do…but I know what I want to do."

In one powerful surge he leaned forward and kissed her. He kissed her powerfully, a man who wanted desperately to claim something, and when he pulled away even innocent Laura wanted more. But she quickly snapped out of that, blushed and put a hand to her lips.

He then kissed her cheek and stood up, "With the commotion last night, and that bloke this morning…I don't know how much longer we can stay here. But if ye'd like to see me or talk to me, leave word with the priest at the church…he's a friend of a friend."

"Aren't you coming to church anymore?" Her tone was more hurt then she'd intended it to be and Murphy sensed it.

"I'd go just to see ye…but I don't think I want to be traipsing around a crime scene especially when I'm the perpetrator. At least not for a few days, til it calms down a bit."

He turned to go but she called out his name, in the tiniest voice he's ever heard, and he stopped dead in his tracks and turned.

"I…it's just…how do I…what do I…"

He smiled as she fumbled around with her words and blushed like a schoolgirl. It was that damnable innocence of hers that made him want to pull her close, protect her…and maybe corrupt her just a little.

Laura finally regained enough stability of thought to form a cohesive sentence, "I don't know what I should consider you as."

"Ye mean like a boyfriend?" He knew the word would make her blush and he wasn't disappointed, "I'm not sure that'd be the best choice…how about ye call me yer guardian angel?"

She blushed again and managed to smile through it and in the deepest part of her she knew that the second Murphy walked out her door, she'd begin wandering when he'd walk through it again.

A/N- 3 updates in 2 days…. Call me God, it seems appropriate. So there we have to intro to each girl…I should timeline u this, this is POST movie, as everything's taking place in New York which is where my little brain has sent them because the heat turned up in Boston.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Connor's romance and Murphy's are not going on simultaneously…there might be some minor overlap, I haven't decided, but be on the lookout for story clues as to when these things are happening. Setting this up so all the one-shots are in one place makes it confusing because it is laid out linearly, but the fics may not necessarily be in linear order.

As it is, I think we need to get the boys' views on things, eh?

Review please!


	4. Dream Lover

A/N- Well….I said the boys would get their day. Because my boyfriend was cute today, and because it was our 6 month anniversary (yeah 9/11…what a day) and I'm feeling cutesy…enter Connor…we'll see where this takes us. Feel free to comment on the "in-character"ness of the boys…I do try but at times I mold characters to suit my needs without realizing it

Once more thanks to my loyal readers! Lady A, GoddessLaughs and Reid's Girl! I think we're all very incestuously reading each other's fics but I enjoy every minute of it! And welcome to the fold sandra! And just-a-moment! Glad to have a small team assembling.

Leannáin na Naomh

_Lover of Saints_

Dream Lover

Sometimes Connor couldn't sleep. Murphy slept like a fucking rock; despite their connection he seldom woke with his brother. Mostly, it was just something in his dreams woke him, and it _woke_ him. It more or less took a hammer to the head to send him back to sleep. He'd never had the problem early in life, it was something that had developed. The funny thing **was**, he could pin point exactly when it started…

He'd seen her the moment she'd huffed through the door, angry and looking for an escape. She had long, curly auburn and gold hair and a set of dazzling, tear-glazed green eyes. This was what they talked about when they talked about Irish beauty. He had stopped dead in his tracks, and Murphy had run right into him, they both fell to the ground from the force of it. Murphy tried to scuffle but Connor just shoved him off and stared straight ahead.

"Would ye look at that Murph?" He nodded to her. He'd seen her from a distance before, their town wasn't exactly that big, but he had never really paid attention to girls until a few years ago…and she wasn't exactly in his classes at school. Rumor had it Cat Grady was something of a bad seed…but to him she didn't look it. She looked perfectly normal.

"Nice tits…" Murphy whistled lowly and Connor elbowed him. Once more Murph tried to start a scuffle only to find his brother disinterested, "What the fuck is wrong with ye? Connor? Ye listenin' to me?"

But Connor wasn't, not attentively…he was watching as Cat leaned against the side of the bar and pretended to be waiting for someone as she sneaked one arm behind and tried to take a bottle. She nearly got away with it too, except that just as she turned to leave with it, Uncle Sibeal caught her wrist and began his scolding.

"Well, yer lass has gotten herself into it now. Has he gotten to the part where he asks her how he's going to feed his family if people keep stealin' his profits?...I guess so." Sibeal's words half floated the bar but he finally stopped and went back to serving the drinks.

Connor nudged his brother, "Come on, Murph. Bet we can help the little kleptomaniac out."

They walked over to the bar and swiped the liquor with ease that was honed from years of doing it for their Ma to earn their reward of a shot each. Well, it was only a sip until they were teenagers, after all she was a somewhat aware parent.

Catching Cat's eye Connor nodded for her to follow, Murphy winked at her and motioned for her to be smart about following. When they were outside,the victors shared their spoils.

"Thank ye boys…didn't think yer uncle was going to catch me." She said as she stared at her drink for a minute, then downed it in a shot, "Jesus but it hits ye after a tick."

"First timer?" Murphy set the bottle between his legs in shock.

Cat reached suggestively for the bottle and winked as she said, "Yeah, how do ye like that? Yer poppin' me drinkin' cherry Murphy."

"I'll pop a bit else if ye take that fucking cockteasing shirt off."

Connor smacked his brother upside the head in a non-too-gentle manner saying, "Didn't our fuckin' Ma teach ye anything? We get her fuckin' wasted first, then we ask her to take off the fuckin' shirt."

"Just the shirt? Ye disappoint me Connor." She smiled and passed the bottle to him.

The night progressed pleasantly as the boys challenged how far Cat would take her vulgarity. Connor found himself smitten, she was as witty, foul and playful as any of the boys at the bar…with the added benefit of being a pretty girl. When she eventually got hit by the liquor he kept an eye on her. Murphy kept drinking and Connor soon found himself babysitting them both. Eventually he shoved Murphy into his Ma when she came into Sibeal's pub and went back out to watch Cat.

She was still acting the fool. He later found out that she didn't remember a fucking bit of this part of the night, but it didn't matter. He hadn't been expecting her too with it being her first time and the amount she drank, but he remembered it. Even with those warning labels.

Collapsing in a giggling fit next to him she slung an arm around his shoulders, "D'ye know 'ow good-lookin' ye are? D'ye? For a kid I 'member runnin' in diapers, ye've gott'n sexy…"

"Ye don't look too fuckin' shabby yerself."

Her face was close to his and she reached down towards his pants, "D'ye want to play show'n'tell with me?"

Jesus fucking Christ did he ever. One part of him was already reaching for his belt buckle but he snapped quickly to his senses. She was drunk. He was buzzed, but she was trashed. She was probably going to black out soon, she'd be puking her stomach out later, and she probably didn't know what she was doing. And she probably wouldn't remember it.

She was reaching for her own belt, "Come on, Connor…play with me…"

He grabbed her hands and stopped her before she did something that was going to lead him to a decision he'd regret. Because no matter how strong yer moral fiber, it was hard for a fifteen-year-old virginal male to say no when a girl just throws off her pants and beckons him forth. Good decisions are rare for horny teenage boys, he wanted to try and keep this one from dying a premature death.

"I promise ye something…I'll play with ye, Cat. When yer sober. Then ye'll have a hell of a fuckin' time getting me to stop playing with ye. But not now."

She made a 'humph'ing noise and stuck her noise in the air snottily…and promptly passed out.

Connor watched her as she slept, checking her every so often, but mostly admiring her and knowing that sooner or later the vomiting was going to start and she'd probably need a hand. Despite the knowledge that he'd soon be seeing all her undigested food, he couldn't help but see how pretty she was. Exactly his type of girl: unafraid.

She walked around town with her boobs falling out, her belly showing, or naughty panties peaking out from her jeans. Her eyes were made startlingly green in comparison to the heavy shadowing around them and she had the creamy white skin of good Irish stock. She also had curves in all the right places, and there wasn't anything you could tell or show Connor to convince him that women should be stick thin. Murphy went for girls like that, wispy little things that looked like they could blow away in a strong wind. Connor liked his girls to look like they could hold up in a bar-fight, liked them with substance, with something he could grab and squeeze.

And after Cat emptied her stomach he helped her settle down for some sleep…and promised himself he'd try to keep his promise and play her little "show and tell" game. That night, as he tried to get some sleep for a few hours before church, he woke with a start after having a dream about her. She was so vivid, so inviting, so…perfect. Why? He barely knew her…but after that dream of her, doing nothing more then beckoning to him, calling his name and waving her arms, he couldn't sleep. He could only stare at the ceiling, listening to Murphy snore, and wonder if she'd ever consciously call to him like that. The next few years were dotted with dreams of the same nature.

When they _finally_ started dating, he couldn't get enough of her. He was always happy when her Ma threw her out and she'd spend the night curled against him in his bed. _His_ bed. They had stopped pushing his and Murphy's together for all of them to share because, as much as it hurt Murphy, he just wasn't wanted.

How many times did they fight about her? Murphy liked her and all, and he wanted Connor to have the girl he fancied…but he hadn't banked on Connor cutting time with his brother for her. It was the first time one of them had a girl, the first time they had to respect that kind of boundary…it wasn't the last, but the first time is always the hardest.

Sometimes when Cat was with him, when he was holding her in his arms safe as could be, he'd dream that they were being separated. Ripped apart. Dragged away from each other… and he'd wait for morning looking from her to the ceiling, realizing she was there but it gave him no relief.

The dreams were fickle mistresses. They could be dark and terrible, more haunting that any normal nightmare, or they could be so alluring, so tempting…so goddamn good that he woke up aching for her. But one thing was always the same: she was in it. Even after he moved away.

After the move to America it was hard for the boys to keep in touch with Ireland…Christ, it was hard enough keeping in touch with their own mother. They didn't have much money to spend on long distance and they had lives. Much as even they didn't want to admit it, they landed on their feet and found new friends, new hang outs…even new girls. Connor had fully intended not to loose touch with Cat, especially because of what had happened on that last night, but it just didn't work. He couldn't call her house, she was hardly ever in it. He asked his Ma to pass on messages, but sometimes she forgot them…sometimes she just didn't know how to find Cat either. Cat became a ghost back home, one that whirled in to frighten the prudes and excite the outcasts and then vanish before she was caught.

Losing touch with her he'd thought he would forget about her or at least that the dreams about her would stop…but he was wrong on both counts. Though the dreams came with less frequency, they never stopped coming. And the strangest thing was the content of some. He was used to dreams of losing her, used to dreams of losing her, used to dreams of wanting her…hell a few dreams of actually having her. But once in a while he found himself dreaming…domestically for lack of a better word. He'd have dreams of waking up to see her wearing an old tee-shirt of his and making them pancakes.

Once he dreamed of fighting with her Ma. There was nothing in these dreams but a pleasant domesticity he hadn't captured in the brief time they'd dated. Or for that matter with any of his girlfriends to date. Maybe he was getting softer as he approached his thirties, maybe he was feeling ready to settle…but then he'd get up, get a beer, and be ready for a fight, for a lifelong bachelorhood.

It was a chilly New York November when he woke up at 3 am and couldn't get back down. He'd only been asleep about an hour and already he was up. It was another image of her, this one was of her dancing, just feeling the music and their bodies moving and everything else was forgotten. He tried to pace himself into sleep, knowing he, Murphy and Da were to go out the next night and he'd need his rest. It'd been a few weeks since they left Boston, and although they'd caused quite the stir in New York City it was too big, too easy to get lost in, for them to worry about having to move on so soon.

After an hour of frustrated pacing he got on his thick coat and walked outside. He started pacing the block, then turned and just walked aimlessly through the big, winding maze of the city. Where else would he find himself but a bar? He strode in but most of the patrons were gone, probably packed semi-conscious into a taxi or thrown into an alley out back to sleep off their drunk. The true night owls were out now, the people that only came alive after 2 am. Or the poor bastards who, like him, couldn't sleep for whatever reason. There was hookers, druggies and insomniacs a plenty in this delightfully seedy place. Connor honestly didn't fucking care. He just wanted something to take his mind off of…

"Cat!" He had to do a double take. How many times had he seen someone who reminded him of her?

She turned around, long auburn curls streaked with blonde now, and green eyes heavily shadowed, and for the first time in ten years…it was actually her. She was different…a little more filled out, a little older. He could see a new tattoo crawling up from her pants to her belly. Her head fell to one side, her jaw slackened and the drink in her hand sloshed all over the floor.

"Connor? Connor!"

For a moment, he thought it was just another dream…but then she launched herself into his arms, pulling him into a massive embrace, "I can't believe my luck! It's usually such shit!...Oh Annabelle ye great bitch, ye planned this!"

Connor pulled her to an arms length, "What the fuck are ye rambling about woman?"

A mischievous smile spread across her face, "Buy me a drink and I'll tell ye."

And he did. Twice.

A/N- I had trouble with ending this one so it wasn't too burdensome by itself, but I like Cat and its easy for me to get lost writing her.

Reader vote, more Laura or more Ma & Da?

Review!


	5. Saint and Sinner

A/N- Since the first vote was for Laura, Laura won. I'm attempting to not do a really boring philosophy reading….

On a personal note, my boyfriend broke up with me and if that angst leaks in I'm sorry.

Leannáin na Naomh

_Lover of Saints_

**Note:** the two brothers are not having simultaneous romances, look for clues as to what's going on, but realize that the time overlap may not be what you think it is…just read, you might catch on, you might not

Saint and Sinner

Murphy lit another cigarette with the flaming butt of his last. Twitching the burned out paper between his fingers and jerking his foot nervously, he tried not to watch the clock. But he did anyway. Fuck, only 5 am. She wouldn't be up until 6…maybe 6:30 if she decided that she'd grab breakfast at work. There was no going to her house for at least another hour… and he didn't know how to waste it.

"Murph, what the fuck are ye doing?" Connor garbled through a cigarette as he finished taking off a bloodied bandage on his forearm, "Fuck, how am I going to hide this?"

"I dunno, Con…she going to be mad ye think?"

"I'll be lucky if she doesn't kill me fer getting' hurt…she's been like that lately."

Taking a beer from the fridge Murphy rolled the bottle cap between his fingers, twitching slightly as the burns from some of the shells stretched against their scabs. How many beers would it take to make the hour go by? Too many to be having so early in the morning. But he couldn't help it, they just got in an hour ago from their job last night. They'd gone to an out of the way dock where a drug deal was coming in. Easy in, kill drug lord, kill his lackeys, kill corrupt delivery man and corrupt cop supervising, clean up, go home. Connor cut himself on an old piece of metal dodging a bullet from the cop, but besides that it was the usually burns and bruises. Nothing serious.

"Fuck!" Connor screamed as he tried to put anti-septic on the wound, eyeing it hopelessly he sighed, "She's going to make me get a fucking tetanus shot."

"Ye mind who ye go to if ye do." Da came from the shadows of the kitchen, sipping sludge-like coffee, "It'd be nice if ye didn't get lock-jaw _or_ get caught."

"So ye want to have yer cake and fucking eat it too?" Connor hissed as he tried to clean the jagged cut.

"Fucking A we do." Murphy took Da's side, "If yer smart enough not to get shot to death, don't be so fucking stupid as to let some little fucking cut take ye down!"

"Don't ye have a girl to be stalkin'?" Connor threw back at his brother.

Sitting down heavily Murphy mumbled, "It's too early yet."

Da rolled his eyes and clipped both boys behind the ears, "Yer both too young to be so dumb over a woman."

"Don't be a fucking hypocrite, Da. Ye were our fucking age when ye met mum. Bet ye were just as fucking dumb for her." Murphy chastised.

"I was…and it left ye both without a father for most of yer lives." He fixed them both with a serious stare, "I'm not saying ye shouldn't fall in love. Everyone should once in their life. But ye've chosen this path, the path of the righteous, and it is no easy path. Mostly, it must be traveled alone. Ye both have proven yer strength for it…yer strong enough to risk yer own lives for it. But are ye ready to risk someone ye love?"

"We love each other, doesn't that fucking count?" Connor motioned between then, emphasizing the family bond.

"Ye don't love each other like ye'll love a woman. Ye love each other, ye don't want to see each other hurt… but ye don't tell the other one to stay home. Ye accept that the other has made his choice, same as ye. Ye aren't going to tell me ye'd let yer wife, the mother of yer children, out in the same line of fire as yerselves?"

"We don't have fucking wives or fucking mothers for our children." Connor snipped.

"We don't even have children." Murphy finished.

"But ye wouldn't. Same as I wouldn't." Da laid a hand on each of their shoulders, "I love ye both, and I love yer mother. But I chose my road long ago, and when I chose it, I knew ye all had to be left behind or brought into the line of fire. Ye can see what happened."

"Yeah, Da…we stepped into the line on our fucking own." Connor was really becoming worked up, from the pain, the hypocrisy and the knowledge that he was going to have to deal with Cat soon.

Murphy checked the clock, 5:30. He could walk slow, pick up breakfast, and get to her apartment just as she was getting up. He left Connor and Da without a word, lighting a fresh cigarette as he turned to go, and silently closed the door behind him. They were used to him leaving after a job now. Murphy used to get so excited over them, like a kid a Christmas. Connor too. Things were changing now. The fun and excitement of any new job had worn off of this one and the stress was setting in. They had to move carefully, avoid cops, travel in safe neighborhoods.

But there was still the dramatic wave of energy that followed the kills. That never changed. None of them slept after a night like that, they usually drank and made merry. Until his brother had stumbled across a gem from back home in a seedy bar one night. Ever since, he had taken to a different kind of merry making. Murphy didn't blame him. Especially now that he'd found someone too.

Times like today it became apparent that Da was worried about both boys' and their relationships, if you could call them that. In both cases there wasn't a lot of time for the niceties of actual relationships. Murphy still cringed whenever one of Laura's friends asked her about her 'boyfriend'. And he knew that Connor had left titles at the door for him and Cat. He wasn't even sure if his brother and his lover had ever discussed whether there was anything besides raw attraction and a base understanding between them. But then again, Murphy never did understand why Connor went for such a wild creature like Cat Grady.

Pausing in his thoughts Murphy contemplated what to get Laura for breakfast. He was there so early, she'd know that he had done a job the night before. He had stopped telling her before he went on one because she wouldn't sleep. The first time he'd told her he was going on a job he hadn't found her in her apartment the next morning. He'd found her half-asleep in a pew at church, and she almost cried when she saw him alive. Now he just let her feel the relief of seeing him in one piece…and he usually helped the relief with donuts or whatever happened to be fresh when he got to the coffee shop. Today it was honey-walnut buns, which he gawked at as girly, and had them throw in a couple good old fashioned Boston Cream donuts for him. No fucking buns for a McManus unless they were attached to a pretty girl's hips.

Murphy winked at the cashier, he had an understanding with this store. It was one of a few places that he and his family could go to without fear. Here, they were supported one hundred percent. He got to her complex, snuck in the back and walked up the 5 flights of stairs to her door. There he took his key out of his pocket and opened the door. He heard the shower running and smiled to himself…someone was up early. Placing the bag of breakfast on the table, he began stalking towards the bathroom.

Opening the door even a crack, he could barely see through the steam.

"Marco?" He called out, a smile spreading across his face as he thought about the blush that had surely spread across her cheeks by now.

"Polo." She squeaked out and the sound of running water died as she poked her head out from behind the curtain, "You're here early."

He was used to that tone now, the tone that she suspected what he'd been doing but that she was happy he appeared ok. Always a little torn, she was too innocent to be completely ok with what he did…but she didn't really see it too much, she never saw him hurt. She tried to separate him and his work, and he was fine with that. He wanted her, if she could only have him as a man, he'd be a man for her. He'd try to be as normal as he could.

After all, relationships were about making it work, right?

She reached for a towel but was too far away from the rack unless she left the shelter of the shower curtain. Seeing what she was reaching for Murphy held it a little ways in front of her fingertips.

"Is this what yer after?" He dangled in front of her, pulling it back just as she reached for it, "No, 'Hello Murphy!', no 'Good morning!'. Not even a little kiss for all the trouble it took me to get here…"

"I'll give you a kiss if you give me the towel."

He unwrapped it and held it out like one would for a child, "I'll give ye a towel if ye get out from behind the curtain."

Blushing madly and smiling like a fool she hopped quickly from the shower to the towel, she tried to pull it around her but Murphy firmly held each end and only encased her in it when his arms grasped her to him.

"How about that kiss?"

She obliged with a chaste peck and, holding the towel, darted to her bedroom for clothes. Laura was still embarrassed to be seen naked by anyone, including him. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen her naked already, but usually the lighting was low, and his eyes only wandered over her body briefly before returning to her own. Murphy was the kind of man who wanted to see what you were thinking, if you got to know him you could read him by his eyes. At times like this, when he ambushed her in the shower, his eyes lingered over her body and she couldn't help but feel conscious of it.

As she slipped into her underwear, and a camisole, and quickly decided on a skirt and blouse, she heard a leisurely wolf-whistle from the door.

"And I left my fucking camera at home."

He was staring again, chewing on a thumbnail because he didn't have a cigarette to inhale, and his eyes were everywhere but her face. She blushed and tried to shove herself into the blouse, but she felt gentle hands pushing the fabric down. His lips brushed the base of her neck before nuzzling into it.

"No, I want to see ye." Murphy's hands traveled up her arms and when they got to her shoulder's they turned her so she faced him, he admired her again, "Fucking hell yer beautiful…"

He let out a long breath, "Ye have to go to work, don't ye?"

Laura gave a small nod, "Afraid so."

"Fuck." It came out lightly and he cupped her face, pulling her close to kiss her. He took his time with this one, no rushed pecks for him.

Maybe it was a result of McManus men's skills, because he'd seen his Ma do the same thing once when he was little, but Laura's knees gave out just a little as he nibbled her bottom lip in just a certain way. Catching her easily he was tempted to lay her out on the bed and convince her to go late to work…

Her hands grasped at his shoulders but not aggressively. Some girls attacked their men when they kissed them, gripping and ripping at them. It was never something that turned Murphy on, although he knew his brother liked it. Murphy liked girls' that grasped onto him like they were holding on, like he had to hold them close or else they'd just slip away. It made him feel big, strong. He was shorter then his brother and sometimes he felt downright short. Like a younger brother and not a twin. Maybe that was why he liked girls that made him feel more like a man; bigger, burlier.

And maybe they liked him because he made them feel more like a woman. He treated every inch of a woman with delicacy and tenderness. He felt they could be fragile creatures, and he wasn't about to break them. Although he wasn't an angel, and there were certainly shameless bouts of fucking loose women in his past, Murphy wasn't the type of guy who needed to _fuck_ someone. He needed to feel a bit more needed then that. He needed to feel like he was the only one important to his girl, like if he left her she'd be lost, and he needed to use his body to show he wasn't about to leave, he needed her body to show him he didn't want him to go.

This wasn't a trait he shared with his brother. Murphy was almost embarrassed about it and he didn't think he'd ever mention it to Connor. In fact, he tried to play up his misogynist side to his twin so Connor could never call him a pussy. It wasn't that Connor abused his girls, far, far, far from it. But Connor played a bit rougher then Murphy with them, he was a guy who needed a good ol' fashioned fuck once in a while. Making love happened rarely for him. It was almost exclusively was Murphy did.

Even twins are different sometimes.

Laura had mixed feelings about her guardian angel from the start. She had a rush of adrenaline just being around him, part excitement, and part fear. Guns and violence weren't something she was exposed to very often. Even after the mugging, she wasn't fully accepting that these were components in life, and none-too-small ones. Murphy was a reminder that yes, bad things happened and they often happened to good people. That being said, someone should do something to help those people. Even if your fighting violence with violence.

He also reminded her that sometimes really great things happened to good people too. Murphy was a genuinely great guy, and the kind of guy she was genuinely attracted to. He doted on her when he could, paid attention to her, admired her…you could tell when he looked at her that he thought he was the luckiest guy in the world.

And he protected her. Murphy was a fiercely protective person of his friends, his family…and Laura, wherever she fell between the two. Being a mousy person who had taken the brunt of a lot of attacks over the years, sometimes she felt it was her role to be the victim. She was the one people teased, the one they flung barbs at when there wasn't anyone else around. It wasn't a great thing to be used to…but she was used to it by now.

Murphy stood in front of her like a shield. No one said anything about her or did anything to her that wasn't up to Murphy's standard without them hearing about it. Like once he took her to a bar that he could show his face it. It was his type of place, working class, a little dirty, but friendly for the most part. And almost entirely Irish. When she stepped over the threshold she felt a bit like a fish out of water, but Murphy had wrapped an arm around her waist, kissed her head, and whispered that if they were staring, it was only because they couldn't believe someone that amazing had just walked in.

It wasn't like she and Murphy went out anywhere very often, mostly they barely had enough time to be alone together, so she swallowed the familiar feeling of being an outsider and put on a small smile as she tailed him. One of the regulars, who seemed chummy with Murphy, called him over for a drink. She told Murphy to go ahead alone but he held her hand and told her not to be afraid. When he told her that, it was amazing the confidence she got and for a minute all her fears evaporated. She had a beer, something she rarely did.

For the occasion of actually going out in public with the man who she had some sort of relationship with, she had put on nice jeans, a lacey camisole and a translucent cover up. She looked good, if out of place. Murphy had been staring at her intermittently for most of the night and his companion began to at some point. Then he went and crossed Murphy's line.

"You're a good-looking piece of ass for a string bean." He reached out and pinched her butt.

Murphy's eyes turned into slits, "Apologize to her."

"What for? She knows its all in good fun…"

"Apologize, ye shouldn't be fucking touching her if she doesn't fucking ask ye to."

The man rolled his eyes, "She give you permission to hang on her all fucking night?"

"I'll ask ye one more fucking time to apologize to her."

She remained silent, she didn't like that the man had pinched her and thought he should apologize but she didn't want Murphy getting into a fight. Laura decided to let Murphy fight his own battles, there was no way she could stop him.

"Fuck off, Murph." The man walked away. Murphy calmed finished his beer, then turned and crushed the bottle over the man's head.

A brawl ensued and it ended with the man being thrown into a garbage pile out back, 'Where manners like that fucking well belong' Murphy had said.

The whole time the fight had been happening she had a little glow inside, someone cared about her to stand up for her like that. It was so…different. When had she become worth someone's time?

It wasn't as though she thought she was worthless, but other people hadn't been very forthcoming with backing her up. This was a whole new world for her. And…she couldn't help but enjoy the rush it gave her.

Just like now. She wasn't a promiscuous person, she rarely did naughty things. It wasn't as though she was a virgin, or never fooled around with boys…but she wasn't someone that made a habit out of it. But times like these, when Murphy pushed all the right buttons and just the right times, she wanted to misbehave…just a little. Maybe more then a little….

She was clinging to him now as he kissed her, his hands roaming everywhere and sending chills up her spine. It was so easy to forget work…so easy…

Flinging her hands around his neck she pulled him closer and even shyly nibbled his lip. His eyebrows flung up, he loved it when she did surprisingly little things like that. But when her fingers dropped from his neck to his chest he pulled back from the kiss.

"Careful…don't start what we can't finish."

A small smirk spread over her face, one bold phrase of "You don't think you can finish?" and she was on her back, Murphy had already discarded her blouse and was pulling his own top over his head.

Laura was a good girl, a very good girl. The type of girl you brought home, the type of girl that you showed as an example. Everything about her was clean, neat, precise and well-mannered. She was teasingly called a saint.

But as Murphy trailed hot-kisses down her neck, hitting one of her sensitive spots and making her back arch, she let out a guiltless moan.

Sometimes, it was so much better to be a sinner for a while.

A/N- so…its been an emotional roller coaster for me personally from start to finish on this chapter, but im doing well, its good to report

I'd also like to thank MKolo and Aradia-rising for joining the reader list! Welcome aboard!

So now that you've seen Laura and Murphy, what do you think? Sometimes I struggle with these two…Cat and Connor are much easier. But honestly, does it work? Will it work? Is Murphy out of character?

REVIEW!


	6. Watcher

A/N- Yes its been a while…my break up has not been kind to me…neither have a series of other things…but I'm trying! 

So when I started this chapter, all one sentence of it, the break up was going poorly…but it has since taken a very sharp and good turn towards a reunion and so…muse! Yay!

And in the three months since the above sentence was written, I have had to stop speaking to the ex boyfriend because he's been unreasonably mean to me, lying to me, and is all in all not at all the boy I started going out with. Or the boy I love.

With that in mind, maybe I'll actually finish this chapter in time for St. Patty's.

Leannáin na Naomh

_Lover of Saints_

Cat was pacing, worried, and wondering how she got this way. Didn't she used to be strong? Didn't she used to be the girl that could throw her inhibitions to the wind? Where WAS that girl? How did she get to be so…so tied down? So involved?

Maybe she was always involved when it came to Connor, maybe she was just now realizing how involved she'd been all along…

Ever since that night in the bar all those months ago it had been like old times, like they'd never left each other in the first place. And yet…it was different. Different because they were both afraid of something that had never occurred to them to be afraid of before. They were afraid of Connor getting caught, afraid of him dying…afraid that if they were foolish enough to give a happy title to what they had fate would come and snatch it away. Fate was cruel like that.

So they snatched moments together, whenever they could, as often as they could. Once they didn't leave their room for three days.

She wasn't the same as she was, not completely. Somehow, somewhere along the line, she had grown up a little. And she liked it.

Nervously, Cat glanced at the clock again. Thirty whole seconds since the last time she checked. When he was gone at the bar she didn't worry so much, but she knew that they'd been 'working' last night and so she was worrying. A lot. Her stomach lurched and rumbled, she constantly felt both sick and hungry and it was beginning to wear thin on her.

Da watched Cat pace. She'd been more and more nervous since Connor had come home and needed to go get a tetanus shot from a shady doctor. Connor was nervous at her nerves. He worried she was going to give herself an aneurism worrying so much…or drink herself dead. Knowing what he did of Cat Grady, Da was willing to side with the second option. But he watched her pace and something inside him went on alert. She wasn't drinking even though she drank like a fish…she puffed on a cigarette sparingly even though she smoked like a chimney… Moody and worried and leaving off vices. This was a woman consumed by something, and while worried was definitely on her list of emotions, chief was confusion. Maybe she didn't realize it, but Da was an expert on reading faces.

What was she so confused about? Certainly not her feelings for Connor. Da spied on both of the boys and their girls, he was too protective not to. Young as they were, both boys had a tendency to let their guard down to some degree when they were with their woman…Da was the only one to maintain a sharp focus on his family. He just wished he could convince them to get neighboring apartments, it'd be easier on his legs to not have to walk to separate ends of town.

Cat placed one hand on her head and the other on her stomach, pausing in her pace as she wobbled a moment on her feet. She couldn't be drunk, neither could she be hungry as Da had watched her pick through her dinner just an hour ago. He wondered what was taking Connor so long to get home as well, but the boy had mentioned getting a surprise. He wouldn't say what, Da could only assume it took some time to acquire.

Something was damnably familiar about Cat. Something he couldn't place. He smoked his cigar down to the stub and as he was lighting another he coughed in surprise. Connor had burst through the door, holding a fuzzy puppy that was squirming and barking squeakily about the dramatic entrance.

"Holy Mary, mother of God, Connor…what do ye think yer doing?" Da mumbled to himself. A dog? Not even a dog…a puppy? Honestly. Cat better not expect Connor to go take it for walks! What a lovely way to be captured, picking up puppy shit!

Cocking his head to one side, Da watched as Cat nuzzled the puppy and cupped the small of her back as she kneeled down to play with it. It was that simple motion, the way she cupped her spine, the way she gingerly knelt down, and Da knew exactly where he'd seen that behavior before.

He'd seen it when Annabelle was pregnant. His boys had been a pain in her back from almost the very first moment. Studying harder, Da could see a slight swell…was it too early to show? Maybe not, it had been some time since Cat and Connor stumbled back into eachother's lives… but wouldn't Connor have known? Wouldn't they have been having round after round of celebratory drinks congratulating Connor on furthering the McManus line? Of course! Cat couldn't be that far…

Then again, Annabelle started showing early on. Twins did that to a woman…

Da smiled and let the couple practice their parenting on their puppy… there was another son and his lover to look after tonight as well.

A/N: so its short but its something…keep a boot in my ass girls, it gets better 


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